Waits Family Annals

I keep going back to this video over the last few days. Beautiful.

Almost as hotly anticipated as The Death of Super Man, The Death of Glucose Man chronicles the life of Glucose Man and his “arch villain”, Glycolysis. So, Glycolysis wants to rule the world. The only way to do that is to steel the aptly named power rings of Glucose Man: Pyruvic Acidium 1 and Pyruvic Acidium 2. With those rings, he can rule the world by harnessing their power. So he goes and cuts Glucose Man in half because the rings are embedded in his torso. (?!) Harnessing the energy released from cutting Glucose Man in half, Glycolysis is able to create two more rings and alter their molecular make-up slightly. With his FOUR power rings he calls ATP, he throws them into the Super Electron Transport Chain Modifier to create 34 rings. Now he can rule the world. But don’t worry, according to him, “My motives were pure… honest! Oh, I’m so misunderstood.”

Hit the jump for the entire comic. It’s riveting. A precursor to Austin Grossman’s Soon I will Be Invincible.

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While in fifth grade, I created a character I could really relate to. His name is The Vilosher. He was a super-violent teen whose family was murdered by corrupt mob men and police. With no one to trust he turned to his scientist friend to create an arsenal of weaponry to take on the people who murdered his family.

I wish I still had the short stories I wrote about him. Actually, there was only one. It had chapters. It was to be my capstone project for the fifth grade. I don’t remember the grade I received. In fact, I though I had lost all traces of The Vilosher, but I found this in my sketch book I used two decades ago. I think there is a gem here that may turn into the next big thing. Check out his arsenal after the jump.

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So I have a tendency to make jokes about people and things I probably shouldn’t. Every now and then, it comes back to bite me. My foot is not that delicious, but I eat it anyway.  In my youth and college days, I was frequently the one that would end any line of jokes. More often than not, I would say something and everyone would turn and look at me as if I had just peed on a sacred relic, then shake their heads and walk away. It’s okay, don’t pity me. I got used to it. Now I tell the jokes in my head. I wish there was a way to just stop them from coming to mind. But, hey, at least I found my filter. Right? It’s extra mentholated (Wow. Who knew “mentholated” was even a word?). The following recently came up over a dinner conversation, and I felt it important to get out there. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. I kept mine, because I’m no innocent in these matters.

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In 1996, I was Freshman at International School Bangkok (ISB). I wish I could say I was one of the cool kids, but I don’t think I can… and that applied to just about everywhere I went to school. ISB did house my largest group of friends. It must have been the hat I insisted on wearing to school (it had a +9 toward attracting friends and chicks)… or the troll on my shelf (+2 against Jerks who made me cry). We had our share of shenanigans. Good shenanigans, but shenanigans nonetheless. Perhaps I will write of them here one day. Unfortunately, I know my parents silently lurk in the Interwebs, and I don’t want to cause anyone’s premature death. No, today I wish to relate one of the most intense political battles I can remember. Michael Moore (yes, that Michael Moore) once told me as we walked to the bus that he was going to make a documentary about this race and my involvement in it. He did, and it won him an Oscar. Two of them in fact.

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I have a thing about Pooh. It’s not that I think Winnie the Pooh is annoying, it’s that I think his influence on society is detrimental to progress. Winnie the Pooh, and all the characters in the 100 Acre Wood teach its followers to be lazy, indolent and disregard consequences. Industry is scorned, idleness is praised. And not the gentlemanly idleness spoken of by Tom Hodgkinson, but the insidious laziness taught by the likes of Shaggy, Ghandi and Matthew McConaughey. If you sit around long enough, things will inevitably be different. Even Cobra Commander from the popular 1980′s cartoon GI Joe had the initiative to organize hundreds, if not thousands, of people to become terrorists that fight against the American Way and Dick Cheney (He was mentioned in season 2. And he served two terms as President of Acting of the United States of America. Seriously. Read the article). If Winnie the Pooh wanted to start a new world order, he would wait until someone else did it and eat honey in the meantime. Winnie the Pooh is the reason my generation does not go out and vote. He is the reason why batteries only last for 8 hours. He is the reason why our world languishes in mediocrity and science fails to progress. If it wasn’t for Pooh, perhaps more women would be involved in Computer Science. Going through the key characters I will show you why Pooh is the second worst influence on society behind James Cameron’s Avatar– they teach us to strive for pedestrian banalities rather than true success in life, art, and relationships.

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Whew! That was painful. The soreness in my arms has gone down, but my abs are still rebelling against my goals. I had Liz watch my form last night and she says I am dropping to a good depth, but I may need some unbiased feedback. My set today was not as invigorating as Wednesday’s. I did the minimum requirements: a set of 11, a set of 15, two sets of 9 and a “Do as many as you can do” set of 13. My abs are numb right now. I have been stretching every day to try and loosen my muscles, but right now I feel as though I have been suspended upside down by my toes and all the blood has rushed into my arms and hands. Hopefully next week gets a little easier.

So my second day of push ups has come. I’m going to be honest here. I did not want to do push ups today. At all. As I make my daily commute, every bump feels like some punching me. Hard. In the pecs, bi-ceps and abdomen. The cobblestone road is the worst. Anyway, I did a set of 12, a set of 10, a set of 3 (I collapsed, and started over), two sets of 8 and a do-all-you-can set of 21! That’s a total of 61. I’ll come clean here too; I think I need to drop lower in my push ups. It’s not looking exactly like the image here.

Well, I started. My arms don’t hurt so much as don’t have any feeling in them. I did a set of 10, a set of 12, two sets of 7 and a final “Do As Many As You Can Do” set of 12. I collapsed. But, hey, I did a total of 48 push-ups today! Granted, not all in one go (which is the ultimate goal), but that’s more push-ups than I think I have done in the previous 28 years of my life . Thank goodness tomorrow is a rest day.

Right off the bat, I want to be clear about something: that picture is not me. However, something strange has happened between my 27th and 28th birthdays. The metabolism which kept me at an emaciated 140 lbs growing up has decided it’s worked hard enough in my life and is taking a vacation. It has allowed this alien lifeform to attach itself to my midsection. Evidently this new globulous mass dislikes waistlines and comfort. In order to maintain itself, it requires vast ammounts of Southwestern Egg Rolls and Ranch Dressing. It also does not like me walking up hills or stairs. It hates stairs. For the past year I have been meaning to do something about it. Today marked me actually starting something.

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